The lieutenant dismounted from his horse, ran his eye up and down the river, and said the place selected for the camp would answer the purpose. He directed the sergeant to detail some of the men to clear away the underbrush, the others to take care of the horses and pitch the tents, while he and Carl removed their saddles and seated themselves at the foot of the nearest tree to have their talk out. The tents were pitched, one for himself and Carl and the other for the men, and one of the soldiers proceeded to wash his hands and begin to get supper.
But we don’t propose to spend much time with their supper or with the hunts that came off during the week following. We have set out to write about the Ghost Dance and the various incidents connected with it, and so the hunting will have to do for another story. It will be enough to say that the party was successful beyond its hopes; that one wagon was loaded in two days and sent to the fort under the command of a corporal, that they killed more than one bear, and that the lieutenant fairly shot himself into the good graces of Carl, the Trailer. In fact his marksmanship rather surprised himself, he had been so long out of practice. He either shot his game dead, or it did not run over fifty yards before it was found. Carl began to treat the lieutenant with more courtesy than he had previously shown him.
But at length the week for which they had come out drew to a close, and they began making preparations to return to the fort. When they were ready to start, Carl, who had been behaving rather strangely of late, keeping his Winchester with him all the while and walking around the camp when he supposed everyone else was asleep, drew up beside Parker, who was riding in his usual place behind the wagon.
“Have you seen any signs of Indians lately?” he asked.
“Nary sign,” replied Parker, “and I looked closely, too.”
“Well, I saw some,” replied the guide in a quiet way which made the lieutenant open his eyes. “I saw the print of an Indian’s foot by the side of that stream that we were hunting upon a few days ago, and I know that they have been loafing around our camp ever since.”
“Why did you not tell me of it?” asked Parker with some heat.
“What good would it have done? You were having a good time during our hunt, and I did not want to say anything to take away your pleasure. Besides, they were too small a party to attack us, if they had any such thought in mind, and were only watching us to see where we went. It is my belief that we shall see some more of them before we reach the fort.”
Lieutenant Parker was profoundly astonished. The idea that his guide should see Indian signs and say nothing to him about it was something he had never dreamed of. It was not treating him right as commander of the expedition. He did not want to say anything more to him, and Carl, as if guessing the way his thoughts ran, relapsed into silence and rode on without saying a word; but he kept his eyes open, and carefully scanned the top of every swell they passed. Lieutenant Parker did likewise, for somehow he could not get over the thought that was uppermost in the mind of the guide “that they would be sure to see more of the Indians before they reached the fort.” Sergeant Leeds was an old soldier, and was constantly on the lookout for suspicious signs; consequently he was not at all alarmed when he discovered a solitary savage, on the top of a neighboring hill, closely watching all their movements. He took one look at him, and then reined in his horse to wait until his superior came up.
“There’s a Sioux up there, sir,” said he, “and he seems to be more interested in our movements than we are ourselves.”